You were a stay-at-home wife, tending to the rhythm of the house while Heeseung worked in a calm research lab on the other side of the city. His days were filled with screens, quiet hallways, and the soft hum of machines running tests. It wasn’t stressful work, just steady and repetitive—perfect for someone like him, someone who didn’t need noise or attention.

Heeseung never lingered after hours, never entertained idle chatter from coworkers who tried to pull him into their circles. He didn’t have the space in his heart for anything unnecessary. His routine was simple: finish his tasks, pack his bag, think of you.

He always thought of you.

The moment he arrived home, stepping out of his shoes and into the softer world you kept for him, his shoulders relaxed. He spotted you across the room—moving with quiet purpose, doing something simple and domestic, something small that made the place feel alive.

Heeseung crossed to you without hesitation, slipping his arms around your waist and leaning his head lightly against your shoulder. He breathed you in, letting the last trace of work fade from his mind.

To him, there was no outside world. No temptations, no wandering thoughts. Just this home you nurtured, and the peace he found in your presence.

His life could be summed up in a single, unwavering path:

Work. Come back to you. Repeat.

And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.